


let's just pretend

by ur_fav_mess



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: :), Exile, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, dream is a manipulative bitch, sapnap is in here for like a split second, so is tubbo actually he's mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ur_fav_mess/pseuds/ur_fav_mess
Summary: Tommy snarls and shakes the hand off, finally spinning to face him. Dream’s mask is up for once, pushing his blonde hair up into a mess that would’ve made Tommy laugh if everything wasn’t wrong. It’s been a while since Tommy has seen Dream’s face.He looks tired. Calculating and dangerous as always, but there are lines beneath the eyes that hold thatI know something you don’tlook. He also looks concerned, almost guilty, a look that is as unfamiliar as it is unwelcome. Tommy’s chin trembles and he slams his fists into Dream’s chest plate even as the enchantment rakes invisible nails over his skin.“What? Are you feeling bad for me? Is that what’s happening?” Tommy chokes.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 3
Kudos: 155





	let's just pretend

**Author's Note:**

> never thought in the year of our lord 2021 i'd be writing and posting mc fanfic i'm sorry boys lmao anyways!! here's some angst meant to be like the v beginning of the exile arc when dream and sapnap were following tommy around in the cave. i thought that stream was cute and funny so i turned it into angst! enjoy :)

Tommy’s hands are rough as he digs through the rock, ignoring the red that smears across the surface to mingle with bits of coal and iron. Behind him, footsteps echo through the cave, and Sapnap’s laughter grows closer. Dream is silent, but Tommy can still feel his presence. It’s warm, stable, and Tommy hates him for it because Dream should be as hurt and cold as he is by now. But even through all that Dream has done to him, even after dragging him to an island to rot, Tommy still can’t quite bring himself to hate him with every fiber of his being. He definitely hates him. But he hates him in the way he hated Wilbur when he refused to let Tommy have a turn with the good sword when they were little. Only this time, the sword will never be given to him and Dream will never hum a song to help him sleep or press a kiss to his brow. 

Hurt digs sharply into Tommy’s chest, and he coughs as if it’s something to dislodge. A tear streaks down his cheek and he swipes it away before Sapnap and Dream get any closer. Tommy grits his teeth, lets the sadness cool and harden into anger until it’s a fragile shell around him. He continues to dig through the rock with his bare hands, biting back a whimper when the rock and granite digs into the cuts. His pick axe broke a long time ago, but Tommy refuses to ask for another. 

Distantly, Tommy realizes Sapnap is calling out a goodbye to him. His shoulders relax just a twitch, but the tension returns as soon as he realizes there was only one pair of footsteps fading. The other pair grow closer until the smell of pine and metal fills the corner Tommy has crushed himself in. 

“Go away, Dream.” he snaps, refraining from turning to look at the man behind him. 

Tommy can practically feel Dream roll his eyes. “I’m not doing anything, Tommy. I-”

Dream cuts himself off, and Tommy hopes that maybe he’s somehow choked on his own spit and dropped dead. Instead there’s a soft click as Dream’s teeth snap together, and then his hand is grabbing Tommy’s shoulder and turning him around. 

Tommy snarls and shakes the hand off, finally spinning to face him. Dream’s mask is up for once, pushing his blonde hair up into a mess that would’ve made Tommy laugh if everything wasn’t wrong. It’s been a while since Tommy has seen Dream’s face. 

He looks tired. Calculating and dangerous as always, but there are lines beneath the eyes that hold that _I know something you don’t_ look. He also looks concerned, almost guilty, a look that is as unfamiliar as it is unwelcome. Tommy’s chin trembles and he slams his fists into Dream’s chest plate even as the enchantment rakes invisible nails over his skin. 

“What? Are you feeling bad for me? Is that what’s happening?” Tommy chokes. 

He swipes out with his fist, but Dream catches it before it can connect with his chestplate again. Tommy struggles to yank it from Dream’s grip, but he’s exhausted and hungry and the world is starting to tilt. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? You’ve taken every-everything from me.” he gasps. 

Tommy is beginning to lose his fight with the tears that have been building ever since he stepped onto the boat here, ever since he had to lower his brother into the ground, ever since his discs disappeared and the world became that much sharper and angrier. 

Then Dream does something that he’s never done before. He unclips his chest plate and pulls Tommy into a hug. 

Tommy lets loose a long string of expletives, even as his voice breaks and the curses dissolve into whimpering. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” Dream whispers. 

Tommy is furious and confused and he’s so _hurt._ Dream sits down against the wall and tucks Tommy to his chest until all he can see is the stupid green fabric of his stupid green sweatshirt and all he can smell is the stupid metallic pine smell that’s just _Dream._

Something in Tommy’s chest breaks and he begins to cry. He thinks of empty jukeboxes and smoke rising in the air and an out of tune guitar. Dream’s hand is gentle on the top of his head where he runs his fingers through his hair. Tommy closes his eyes and tries to pretend it’s Wilbur, because even though Wilbur blew up everything he still loved Tommy. 

“Get off. I want-I want Wilbur.” Tommy manages. 

He shoves Dream off, wishing the sight of his blood ruining the sweatshirt made him feel better. It doesn’t. 

Tommy swipes at his face and shoulders past Dream, glancing in the corner of his vision for comms. 

_wilbur? are you at the camp site?_

_tommy! yes! are you coming back?_

_yeah._

Tommy takes in a deep breath that makes his lungs ache and pushes himself faster, ignoring the even clip of Dream’s netherite boots behind him and the glint of purple in the corner of his eye. 

By the time Tommy crawls out of the cave he’s shaking with hunger, and the cool night air isn’t much better than the freezing temperatures of the cave. His shoes squeak the grass as he walks, and he picks up his speed as red eyes begin to appear from the trees. 

He doesn’t have a sword. Which would be nice, considering he’s so hungry he can barely move past a brisk walk at this point. Tommy ducks as a skeleton fires at him and steps out of reach from a zombie struggling to climb out of a lake. In the distance, he can see the pinprick of light signaling the ring of logs Wilbur has set up as home. 

Dream still follows just behind, footsteps heavy. Tommy resists the urge to tell him to leave. His stomach clenches painfully, and Tommy digs his nails into his raw palms, the sharp sting giving him a trickle of adrenaline. He holds tight to the nerves that prickle down his arms and tries to focus on the creak of bones behind him and the slight metallic edge to the air. 

Tommy’s legs are about ready to give out by the time he reaches the campsite. Wilbur sits with his back to the house, eyes vacant where they’re glued to the ground. 

“Wilbur?”

His head snaps up, an instinctive smile marking his lips before his form flickers, solidifying with concern. 

“Tommy? Are you alright?”

Wilbur stands and walks towards him, and for a moment Tommy forgets he’s not exactly Wilbur anymore. The worry has made him sharper, more stable, and Tommy can almost smell Wilbur’s cologne he complained about until he couldn’t remember if it was jasmine or lavender. Tommy stumbles forward, and Wilbur catches him.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Wilbur pulls back, swipes his thumbs over Tommy’s cheeks. Tommy hates himself for it but he buries his face in Wilbur’s chest for the first time since he was a little kid. Wilbur murmures something soft and quiet, brushes Tommy’s hair from his forehead and presses his lips to Tommy’s temple. Tommy’s chin trembles and he shifts closer to his brother until he can hear Wilbur’s heartbeat, a sound that comes out whenever Wilbur forgets he’s dead. 

Wilbur’s hands are still gentle where they comb through Tommy’s hair when his voice hardens and breaks the silence of the campsite. 

“Out, Dream. Get out.”

“What? I didn’t-”

Wilbur’s form flickers, momentarily turning cold. Tommy whimpers and clings tighter, and Wilbur brushes a reassuring hand across his back. 

“Don’t make me ask again.” Wilbur murmurs dangerously. 

For a second the smell of gunpowder is heavy in the air. 

Dream’s footsteps retreat, and Tommy relaxes once he hears the sound of his boat pushing off the shore. He slumps further into his brother, closing his eyes and memorizing how warm and solid and alive Wilbur feels. 

“Let’s get some food in you, Tommy.”

Wilbur begins to let go, and Tommy can’t find the energy to be embarrassed when a sob breaks out of his throat. 

“Wilbur, wait. I don’t-I miss you.” he says. 

WIlbur softens. “I know, Tommy. I’m-I’m sorry. For a lot of things.”

Tommy’s eyes widen as he stares into Wilbur’s, which shift between gray and brown. 

“Just give it a little time. I don’t think I’m quite ready to leave yet. I’ll come back around.”

Wilbur flickers, solidifies. He helps Tommy stand and get into the cottage, then pushes him onto the cot. He hums something soft as he digs through barrels for food, then bandages Tommy’s hands and arms while Tommy eats. 

“You’re really coming back around? You promise?” Tommy whispers, knowing that this hope could very well be the thing that breaks him. 

Wilbur is quiet for a moment, and Tommy’s heart pounds so hard it hurts. “I think so. I’’ll need some help, and some time. But I’m definitely not leaving you anytime soon. Okay?”

Tommy doesn’t say anything, just fits himself against Wilbur’s side and pretends he’s little again. He pretends Techno still cries whenever Phil has to kill a sheep, and that he’s sitting in the cottage in front of the fire, and that soon they’ll all come inside and sleep close enough that Tommy can hear their breathing and know that they’re safe. 

He pretends his best friend isn’t oceans away with what’s left of his heart crushed in his fist. He pretends his brothers are whole, not half underground and tormented by voices. He pretends his scars are from bee stings and leaping off swings and that he’s never had to see real blood, never had to actually use a sword. 

Tommy pretends, and he hurts, and he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed that! i got a couple more fics in mind so if you guys wanna see that leave a comment!


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